‘Twas the night before Christmas at Trump’s Mar-a-Lago / Opinion

Story by Frank Cerabino, Palm Beach Post. December 24, 2024.

‘Twas the night before Christmas and all ‘cross the state

The temperature had fallen to a muggy 78.

And at Trump’s Mar-a-Lago, well after dusk

Not a creature was stirring, not even a Musk.

All a-snug in their rooms, for a long nightly snooze

Unless Pete Hegseth came knocking with booze.

The entire Trump clan, the whole “ganze mishpocha”

Were more than content, even the Carlson named Tucker.

RFK Junior, dreamed of tasting a panda

Or looking for varmints to eat on the veranda.

Tulsi Gabbard was assumed to be deep in her slumber.

But was whispering in her room to a Moscow phone number.

Lara Trump wished herself in a U.S. Senate corridor

And thinking, “Maybe I oughta learn something ‘bout Florid-er.”

In the next room, Kimberly Guilfoyle was making plans for Greece

While Don Jr. was dreaming of his imminent release.

So much contentment from all those on the make

Except for old Donald, who was restlessly awake.

It bugged to him sit there alone and not sleepy

He needed a crowd to praise him quite deeply.

Or to sell Bibles, cologne and some golden shoes

This solitude was giving him the YMCA blues.

Where’s Vivek to be a rapt audience for his “weave”?

And why won’t Fox News return calls on Christmas Eve?

And what about Melania? More morose than vibrant,

And harder to track than a border-crossing migrant.

Trump was so bored, he nearly searched under beds

For those top-secret docs well hid from the feds.

Then he heard a sound so strange and unique

That he went to the window to have himself a peek.

The moon in the sky gave a luster like snow

To the lawn in the back the foreign-born mow.

When what to his wondering eyes should appear,

But an object that was airborne and growing quite near.

It was a sleigh with eight reindeer and a driver alone.

For a moment he thought, “It’s a New Jersey drone!”

But it was Santa, Trump saw, and, oh, what a sight,

As the sleigh clipped the flagpole, nearly invisible at night.

More rapid than eagles, his coursers they came.

And he whistled, and shouted and called them by name.

“Now Dasher, now Prancer, now Comet and Vixen.

Here lives the guy who’s far worse than Nixon.”

The sleigh landed swiftly, on the roof with a skid.

And Trump gave a warning, yes, that’s what he did.

“Santa, that bag of yours is bursting with foreign-made stuff.

It’s time you were tariffed, America has had enough.

“You take us for fools, as if we don’t care.

It’s time you North Polers paid your fair share.

“You’re globalist scum, not an America-first chooser.

Now, get off my roof, you #NeverTrump loser.”

Santa gave a laugh while ignoring Trump’s screed,

“I got you this book, something you should read.

“Don’t worry. It’s short, and has lots of pictures.

It’s all about tariffs and foreign trade strictures.

“Instead of carrying on like an uniformed jerk

You might as well learn how tariffs really work.

“And once you learn tariffs, I’ve got another for good measure:

A lesson book about NATO, an alliance you should treasure.”

“I know it all,” Trump said. “Just ask my staff.

I aced a cognitive test, picked out the giraffe.

“And now I’m the king, the most loved in the nation.

Especially once I get rolling on mass deportation.”

Santa interrupted, “I have no time for boot-licking.

I’ve got work to do and the clock is a-ticking.”

Trump was offended by Santa’s verbal epistle

And he warned the old elf to expect a Trump missile.

“You’re a woke socialist, Santa. And one day you’ll learn.

Bad things will happen to you my next term.

“I’m emptying the prisons of my violent Jan. 6 crew

And they’ll trash your workshop like a Capitol coup.

“And then I’ll call my FBI minion, the patriot Patel.

Who will specialize in making your life a living hell.

“Then, I’ll sue you and drain you of all your life savings

While I Stephanopoulos you with a barrage of court ravings.”

Santa sighed, “Oh, well,” he said. “I’ve fulfilled my role.

If I thought you wouldn’t like it, I’d a-given you coal.”

Claus perched on his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But he sure did exclaim as he rode out of sight.

“Thank God for term limits, and to all a good night.”

Frank Cerabino is a news columnist with The Palm Beach Post, part of the USA TODAY Network-Florida, where this column originally appeared.

**This article originally appeared on Palm Beach Post: ‘Twas the night before Christmas at Trump’s Mar-a-Lago | Opinion **

@RalphHightower: Perfect! It’s his hometown newspaper.